


94%, Dude

by eeyore9990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hook-Up, M/M, One Night Stands, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Switching, forgot each others names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guy was really too young for the leather daddy aesthetic, but with the leather and the more-beard-than stubble and the eyebrows... Yeah, he was kinda working the hot grumpy leather daddy biker gang leader look.</p><p>And Stiles <i>liked</i> it.</p><p>***</p><p>For the prompt: Sterek soul mark fic wherein marks never match, they just line up perfectly to be a shape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	94%, Dude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mmmdraco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/gifts).



> For Superhappygenki on the occasion of her birth (and/or originally scheduled due date bc I was a wee bit late -- or your bday is just too early).

Stiles had no idea how he’d gotten here. 

No, okay, there’d been the club and flashy neon lights and bearded hot dude looking like a grumpy leather daddy or something. There’d been grinding and panting breaths on the back of his neck, hands gripping just a bit too tight to his hips. 

Then it had gone the other way, after a quick trip to the bathroom and the semi-public defiling of a stall – and the knees of Stiles’ jeans, but they were too tight anyway, so fuckit. When Stiles had finished, the taste of the guy still thick in his throat, they’d made their way back to the dancefloor where Stiles had seized the opportunity to grind his dick all up on that round little bubble butt until he’d been hauled closer via a hand tangling in his hair and a hoarsly whispered, “I want you to fuck me for real.” 

Stiles wasn’t saying no to THAT. So that was how they’d gotten here. 

But honestly, hot bearded leather daddy dude whose name started with a D – David? – was waaay too hot for Stiles, just so far out of his league it was laughable. Yet here they were, stumbling up the steps to Stiles’ apartment, barely breaking apart at the mouth long enough for Stiles to open his door. 

Stiles’ general face area already felt raw and beard burned, but he was not about to back off long enough to complain. Though thank god Drake (?) was apparently an impatient bastard, because right about the time Stiles would have needed to beg mercy, he picked Stiles up, flung him over his shoulder, and stomped around Stiles’ apartment til he found the bedroom. 

Stiles would bake some cookies for his downstairs neighbors tomorrow in apology for all the banging they were being subjected to. And all the banging they were ABOUT to be subjected to. Wiiiink. 

Darren dropped Stiles onto his feet with a breathless, growly command to “get naked” even as he started shimmying out of his own painted on black jeans, gracefully toeing out of his bulky black boots as he did so. 

Stiles, of course, not having been granted the gift of grace by faeries at his birth, fell over twice whilst wrestling his jeans down his skinny thighs – possibly because he was paying more attention to Draco’s rapidly appearing body than what he was doing. But regardless, he ended up naked, and since that was the goal, he gave himself a mental gold star for that one. 

After that Stiles took over, avoiding Derek’s general facial region in the interest of not being sandpapered to death. As that left quite the wonderland of warm, firm skin and rippling muscles to play with, it was all good. 

And Diego responded beautifully, arching and writhing under Stiles’ hands and mouth, outright begging for Stiles to stop teasing and fuck him already. 

So Stiles did because. 

Because _Danny_. 

*** 

(Okay, no, the universe would not be so unkind as to make Stiles’ random club hookup have the same name as his high school crush. So no. Not Danny.) 

*** 

(It was probably Danny.) 

*** 

Stiles groaned as a stray ray of the most obnoxiously bright sunlight hit him square in the face. Rolling over, he buried his face in his pillow, even as a light chuckle sounded from next to him. 

“Not a morning person?” Probably Danny asked, nipping at the shell of Stiles’ ear after just to make him squirm. “Let’s see if I can make it better.” And then he proceeded to lick and suck his way down Stiles’ spine until he got to the ass Stiles was waving a little desperately, hoping this was going where he thought it was. 

When he just dragged his chin over Stiles’ ass cheeks instead of anything more _adventurous,_ Stiles raised himself up on his elbows, twisting around to whine, “Stop teasing, man.” 

The guy grinned – and somehow Stiles had completely missed the fact that he had the most adorable little bunny teeth on the planet – before lightly smacking his beard-scrubbed ass. “Payback’s a bitch, huh? ‘Sokay, though. I won’t make you wait too long. After all, from the feel of things, my mouth already smells like ass. Might as well have a better reason for that.” 

That dryly delivered remark startled a burst of laughter from Stiles, which turned into a low, breath-rattling moan as soon as Dude darted forward, licking a long stripe over Stiles’ rim. 

And then there was a choked-off noise that didn’t sound right, not in the context of random stranger sexytimes, anyway. 

When Stiles’ brain regained function, he’d investigate the reason. 

No, really. 

“Hey, uhh…Steve?” 

_Oh, thank god._ Stiles wasn’t the only one bad with names. 

“It’s Stiles, dude.” 

“Don’t call me dude. And we have a… situation.” Dude’s voice sounded odd, hoarse in a not-good way. Scared, almost. 

As gently as possible, Stiles murmured, “Erectile dysfunction occurs in 94% of the male population…Danny?” Okay, he made the statistic up. Sue him. 

“Derek.” 

Stiles collapsed back to his pillow in relief. “Thank you, baby Jesus.” 

“Um.” 

“Oh yes, right. Problem.” 

Derek was quiet long enough for Stiles to squirm around under him, flipping over and readjusting until his legs were splayed out, arms free to beckon Derek up to the head of the bed. 

However, Derek just shook his head, his thumb sliding between the cheeks of Stiles’ ass and rubbing. Over his soul mark. 

Stiles twitched, for one because his mark was on his rim, and his sex-primed body was enjoying the attention. But also…soul mark. “Derek. Dude. What the fuck? Please tell me you’re not going to get all pure and chaste on me now because you saw my soul mark and you’re a ‘waiting for bonding’ chastity ring wearer or something.” 

Eyebrows drawing together, Derek shook his head, then tilted it in thought before shrugging. “It’s sort of… exactly that. But the opposite?” 

“Wow. That’s…not confusing at all.” Stiles fell back with a heavy sigh, the words _enthusiastic consent_ ringing in his head. “Okay, um. I respect your choices. I’m sorry if I–” 

“Oh my god. Shut up, idiot. You have a wonky lopsided half of a heart on your ass.” Derek stared up Stiles’ body, his pretty eyes catching the light even as his eyebrows swooped and bent trying to block it. 

“Yeaaaah?” 

With a gusty sigh, Derek shuffled up the bed until he was kneeling tall between Stiles’ splayed thighs. Taking his not-quite limp dick in hand, he peeled back the foreskin Stiles had taken such delight in running his tongue under last night. And there, right beside his slit, was the mirror image of Stiles’ lopsided, wonky half heart. The _other_ half. 

Holy. Shit. 

How the fuck had he missed that in the club? 

Swallowing hard, Stiles slowly raised his eyes to Derek’s. They stared at each other, the moment dragging out and filling with an intensity that made Stiles’ teeth ache. Finally, unable to stand it, Stiles blurted out, “Well? Do it.” 

“You want me to…?” 

“Um. Maybe,” Stiles’ brain rebooted just then, quite literally saving his ass when it reminded him about, “lube!” 

Derek dropped his dick, chin bobbing as he nodded, eyes still locked on Stiles’. “If this…” 

“Different origin story. Yeah, no shit. We’ll come up with something suitably cheesy and romantic after we make sure.” And then, “Oh my god, if this _does_ work, it does _not_ mean you’re topping all the time.” 

Derek’s eye roll was legendary. “Yeah, like that was even a concern after last night.” 

“Okay, true. But still. Had to cover my bases there.” And then Stiles remembered he was supposed to be supplying lube and – huh – probably no condom, actually, because soul mark, so he patted the sheets down ‘til he found the tube they’d flung aside last night. 

Derek grabbed it with a huff that was probably meant to sound thankful. But then he was smearing lube on his fingers and sliding them so gently into Stiles’ ass and rubbing all up on his prostate in like, five seconds flat, so Stiles kind of… forgot? Maybe? 

So when Derek lined himself up minutes later, giving in to the increasingly loud demands from Stiles, it wasn’t any wonder that the electric zing of their soul marks aligning startled Stiles so badly he lost control and came all over himself before Derek was fully inside him. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek said, somehow managing to laugh and moan at the same time as he bottomed out deep inside Stiles’ ass. “94% I think you said.” 

“Oh shut up and fuck me, asshole,” Stiles replied, digging his heel into Derek’s kidney. But it was okay, because he was laughing too. 

He couldn’t wait to see the look on his dad’s face when he met Stiles’ hot leather daddy soul mate.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me just say, I could cry tears of joy. I WROTE A THING. _FINALLY._


End file.
